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Apr 03, 2008
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killtime sonnet #20
The cold left brain routinely ice and steel
A razor view that governs what and where
Takes note in passing of the way things feel
Allowing thoughts to serve that lead to there
The end foreseen, the close approach to good,
The given worth from silent female side,
But stifles sense that rests on borrowed should
And holds itself aloof with arid pride.
The sharp and shiny edge of reason's tool
Dissects the real, reducing whole to parts,
And yet, somehow, I feel myself the fool,
Mistaking simple skills for clever arts.
Poetic insight clamors for my ear
And that, precisely, names my greatest fear.
Comments
Jonathan Moore
18 years 1 month ago
There are a lot of great images
weirdelf
18 years ago
You named your greatest fear
barbsdad2003
18 years ago
Yes, yes ...
barbsdad2003
18 years ago
I so appreciate your adjective<noun ...
Skumpfsklub
16 years 11 months ago
Another one tossed back on the heap. Call the matador in.
Jonathan Moore
16 years 10 months ago
Slow start, Strong finish